foxmonkey: Robot Snowman with Flowers (Default)
What an absolutely spectacular day it is, a perfect day to usher in my favorite month, October. The sky is postcard blue, and thanks to the very cool weather these last couple of weeks, the leaves are turning. Lots of scarlet and yellow mixed with green, and it looks great. :-)

Today is the fifth anniversary of my mom's death. Five years have practically flown. I remember the first few days, the first few weeks, when it seemed like life would never go back to normal, and that time would drag on until it was *my* time to go. It's freaky how quickly time really does move. From minutes dragging by like days until *poof!* it's five years later and you're just kind of blinking, wondering what happened. One good thing? I can sit here and type this without bawling my eyes out. Go me. I can sit and smile instead, and I'm sure Mom likes that better. :-)

Remembering... )

Anyway, I'm glad I'm at the point where I can remember Mom with more laughter than tears. Still think about her tons and I still cry every now and then (eeek, tearing up now). I loved her so much. I miss her like crazy. :-(

Mom.

Nov. 6th, 2001 08:47 pm
foxmonkey: Robot Snowman with Flowers (Default)
My eyes hurt and I'm tired and I'm crying. It hits me in the gut when I least expect it. Mom's gone, and I hate it and hating it won't change a thing. She's gone and I want her back. I want my mother. If there's worse pain in the world, I don't want to know what it is.

Hmmm...

Oct. 19th, 2001 09:50 pm
foxmonkey: Robot Snowman with Flowers (Default)
So. I'm emerging, slowly. Still have fits and starts where I think about Mom and just can't believe she's gone. Looked at a gardening catalog the other day (I'm hopeless with that kind of stuff), and thought, "Hmmm, have to ask Mom about these," and realized that I can't. I feel a little lost.

So. Writing. I'm writing - hey, just realized that I've neglected to pimp my latest!






Still Life, a five-part series. The first one, Lance, is up. I like it so far. There's pimpin' to be done for other people, but not in this entry. I'm tired like crazy, and want to do a little writing on the next part of Still Life before I go to bed.

Music...purchased the NSync Christmas CD (woohoo!), the Australian (I think) version of Celebrity, gaining Falling and That Girl Will Never Be Mine. Five bucks per song for two tunes I didn't have, so I guess that's not bad. Plus it's a non-enhanced CD, and I'm pleased at that. Also gacked my cousin's copy of Jill Scott. Woohoo, again! I'm gonna burn it and return it, though. He's a sweetie for letting me have it, but I won't keep it. Ooh! Also bought the new one by Live, but haven't managed much beyond the first two songs yet. Love Ed Kowalczyk's voice.

While listening to CDs during an aggravating day at work this week, I realized how much I love Pop! Why wasn't this bigger? Somebody seriously stumbled with the marketing moves on that song. Friggin' love it.

Well, off to write, and then pop myself into bed. And sleep, 'cause I'm sooo tired.
foxmonkey: Robot Snowman with Flowers (Default)
...if so, leave me alone for a bit, would you?

This is officially my worst year ever. Death and mayhem abound internationally and now within our borders, and on a personal level, it's gotten worse. My mother died unexpectedly and suddenly last week. I saw her the day before she died, and the last thing we talked about was making plans to see On The Line.

Thank god that it was quick, and of natural causes, and she didn't suffer overmuch. I'm very glad of that. She was my best buddy, and I fully expected/wanted/believed she'd be around another 30 years. I know you can't look for meanings and explanations, but I'd really like to have one. Is there a plan? I asked a friend once something along those lines. If there are reasons that things happen, or whether life is just a bunch of stuff that happens. I'm thinking that there's *got* to be more to us than our brief time on the planet. We're capable of too much, and the universe is too big for our little wink of existence to not matter. We're tiny in the greater scheme of things - microminiscule, even - but there's got to be some kind of meaning for us being here, doesn't there? Are we just a collection of biochemical reactions that Just. End., or is there something more?

Oy, getting a headache.

I thought about this the other day, and wished that I'd had it on hand to read at the funeral. Probably wouldn't have gotten through it (just looked at it and got teary-eyed, so I doubt I'd have made it a week ago), but I'd have tried.

I'm a whining baby about flying, and I found this in The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. When I fly I read it, and it's comforting.


Then Almitra spoke, saying, We would ask now of Death.
And he said:
You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honor.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then shall you begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

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